


Rinse and Repeat

by Lost (Legendaerie)



Category: Harvest Moon, Harvest Moon: A New Beginning
Genre: Implied/One-Sided Relationship, farmgirls are MESSY MESSY MESSY
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-22
Updated: 2013-04-22
Packaged: 2020-02-29 06:47:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,748
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18773410
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendaerie/pseuds/Lost
Summary: She's like the inverse of a tornado, an unstoppable force of nature who cleans up everything she touches. Strong enough to push around cows, smart enough to build his salon alone; yeah, the new girl's got a lot going for her. It's the least he can do to help her keep her hair in shape, right?





	Rinse and Repeat

He wouldn't say that she'd become his _friend_ or anything.

No, they weren't anything like that. There wasn't even a _they_ , there was just a him and a her. A few words passed - almost daily - over counters, in the street or wherever was convenient, some smiles and a steady supply of herb soup was all they-

 _he and she_ really had.

But, she was interesting. Messy and fierce and serious and intimidating, almost, in her ability to learn and take charge of things. And maybe he liked her a little bit.

Maybe he also liked her a little less when he saw her talking with the animal boy. The one with the combat boots and the bad attitude he wore everywhere except when he thought she wasn't looking. But hey, it was her choice who she talked to. He didn't care.

But it did make him smile whenever she trotted into the shop, even if she smelled of sunshine and dirt and sweat and _cows_. And even though she almost always tracked mud in, he didn't mind.

And yet, he would consider it the highlight of his day whenever she had the time (and the money, he doesn't work for free, you know) to have him wash her hair.

She wasn't very chatty, which left him free to ramble on in an abstract way about the weather or how amazing he was in a vague, all-encompassing sense as he was up to his knuckles in lather. When her eyes were closed and her chapped lips turned up in a small smile, she looked considerably less intimidating.

It was still rather hard not to offer to wash her face, too. By the Goddess, she was a mess.

One of these visits were different, though.

It was nearing the end of the day when she came in this time - the little bell over the door chiming and tugging his attention smoothly away from the latest fashion magazine he was busy reading. She looked especially tired.

"Long day?" he queried, laying aside the magazine out of politeness but still lounging against the wall, crossing one long leg over the other. "You look tired. I recommend sleep." _Maybe a shower, too,_ but though he meant it in good humor he kept his mouth shut. He could almost smell her across the counter.

Oddly, he didn't really mind.

"Do you have time for a wash and trim?" She offered him a small smile with the bag of coins she plopped on the surface between them. He didn't spend more than a moment half-heartedly counting them - she always had exact change.

"I suppose I can stay open a bit later than usual. You look like you need it."

He gestured her over to one of the (nearly perpetually) free sinks - she sunk into the chair gratefully, eyes closing even before he leaned the chair back and aimed her head into the sink.

"Do you even care what style you get today?"

"I trust your judgment," she said sleepily, tensing only a little as he started to tease warm water into her hair with the shower-head attachment. Wet it first, then shampoo - he'd taught himself this strictly, and he watched some particles of hay and what he _really hoped_ was not an insect run down the drain with the water with vague interest.

His mind meandered over a few possible topics before he settled on one that didn't require very articulate feedback from her; in this state of exhaustion, he doubted he'd get much above hums and grunts.

"The town's growing at a pretty steady pace - good job with the buildings so far. They're holding up nicely."

"Mm-hmm."

He allowed a smirk to cross his face - right, as usual. He squeezed out a dollop of shampoo, holding it in his hands for a moment to warm it up before rubbing it in his palms and finally slathering it on her pretty black locks.

"I gotta say, you're doing pretty well for a self-taught farmer. I've heard that your eggs are some of the highest quality in the region. You're making a good name for Echo Town."

His skilled fingers worked through her hair with care, massaging circles in her scalp and detangling the worst of the knots with deft precision. Why, then, did he feel so proud that she trusted him so absolutely with her style? He was unmistakably talented and worth every cent and more the villagers paid him - so why did it feel like such an accomplishment to be allowed to snare his fingers in the inky tresses of a farmer and pick out something that had _most certainly_ been an insect once?

"Mm-hmm."

"I doubt your workload gets much lighter depending on the season, but I've got to say I like fall the best. It's not too hot, not too cold - plus, it's not as soggy as the springtime usually gets. I appreciate a nice balance, you know?"

By this time, he was starting to reach for the water again for a rinse - and then he noticed the subtle parting of her lips and her silence. As he watched, she let out the faintest, softest snore.

Smiling, he checked the water temperature again and began to rinse with special care.

A bottle of conditioner caught his eye - it was high end stuff, imported from Forget Valley, rich and buttery and meant to be left in as long as possible. He'd never had occasion to use it - the stuff was so powerful it would probably turn burlap into silk.

After a moment's deliberation, he squirted a precious circle into his palms, warmed it again, and got to work combing it through the sleeping girl's hair. Tangles were dealt with by holding her hair in one hand and combing with the other - virtually eliminating any tugs directly on her scalp - but the creamy conditioner worked wonders. Nothing could stand up to its might, and as he rinsed his hands off and returned to his magazine with a glance at the clock, he left it to its mysterious magic.

Minutes ticked by, rolling slowly into a ball of time that accumulated seconds until a half an hour had passed. The whole time, the girl had slept on in a peaceful silence broken only occasionally by a sleepy content murmur, or a stir.

He hadn't watched her the whole time, either. Just checked to see how she was doing a few times - a glance over his magazine, a study of her eye lashes from a littler closer, a towel draped over her shoulders for warmth. Not that he was hovering or anything. He wasn't the type.

He just wanted the best for his customers.

Eventually, he reached the point in time when he really couldn't justify the fact that there was a girl sleeping in his salon, and he started to rinse out her hair dutifully. The texture of her hair under the conditioner almost made him cry - it was blissfully soft, shining like the deepest night sky shot through with starlight. A miracle in hair care. People could write poetry about this hair. He could _marry_ this hair. He could have children with this hair, if only it meant that somehow their offspring would inherit the silken feel and be able to let the wind caress their hair in the sunlight.

_God, he was pathetic._

She still managed to sleep through his little stylist epiphany, so he flicked the head of the hose up and lowered the water temperature. Ice cold droplets scattered across her nose and face - finally, an excuse to get her to wipe some of that dust off! - and she jerked awake with a little yip.

It was adorable. He had to admit that much.

"Come on, sleepyhead, you have to sit up if you want me to cut your hair."

She cast a worried glance at the clock, wrapping her hair up with the towel and starting to rub it dry - hastily, he slapped her hands away and begin sponging the moisture away with the appropriate level of care.

"How long was I asleep?"

"Not much beyond 30 minutes," he admitted, pushing her shoulder back down when she attempted to get up. "You needed the rest. Hold your horses, girl, I still need to give you a trim."

"Ooooh, just keep the change, okay? I need to get home and water my plants. Please?"

The 'please' took him a little by surprise - of course she should recognize him as the master of hair, but she didn't need to ask for permission to leave, did she?

Though he did still have one hand on her shoulder. Oops.

Shrugging, he stepped aside and let her jump to her feet. "Come back another time, then. I'll give you a rain check - but just this once, okay?"

She flashed him a grateful smile before racing out the door. His matching expression lingered the rest of the evening as he cleaned up his salon and prepared himself for a long and deep night's rest.

It wasn't until he put the broom away that he realized she'd run away with his towel still wrapped around her head.

 

* * *

 

Days later, her hair still had a level of shimmer and bounce to it that every head turned when she jogged by. Even the animal boy's gaze lingered on her longer than usual, though he'd always plaster on a scowl when she looked back and he seldom returned her smile.

When _he_ caught the animal boy's eye, though, he crossed his legs on the bench in the sunshine and didn't even try to hide his smirk as he called out to the farmer girl.

"Hey, you should be thankful I treated your hair with that conditioner. It's no ordinary stuff, you know. I had to let it sit in for 30 minutes and I even let you sleep through it!"

"I know," she answered, with a grin and a wink just for him as she kept loading milk into the refrigerated shipping bin. "You're the best, Allen."

She returned to her work and completely missed the look of raw challenge flash between the two bachelors not 20 feet away from her.

"Your move," he mouthed to the blond who'd never been to a stylist a day in his life, the boy whose hair matched the hay he probably slept in, the boy with the boots and the scowl and who somehow managed to make her smile, too.

_It was on._


End file.
